


White Light/White Heat

by honeypie_gemini



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe, Extraterrestrial mysteries, F/M, UFOs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:55:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6472660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeypie_gemini/pseuds/honeypie_gemini





	White Light/White Heat

“That will be $9.32.”   
Dana Scully smiles behind round glasses. She stacks the customers books into a brown paper bag inked with Poppie's Buy-Sell Bookstore across the side.   
She got the job only three months before and already she is itching for something new. Often she thinks of time and how easily it seems to slip through her fingers. She is 20 years old and yet she still feels like she's 18. High school graduation feels like yesterday...   
But it wasn't yesterday. 

It was well over three years ago and what does she have to show for it? Nothing but this dusty part-time job at Poppie's Buy-Sell Bookstore. Actually, she doesn't mind it so much. Better than her last receptionist job. Taking calls and scheduling appointments for some overpriced hair salon nearly bored her to tears. She did get free haircuts, though.   
Here at Poppie's, she gets to switch between ringing people up and helping folks find specific authors or categories. She likes helping people. The act of search and discovery thrills her.   
“Thank you, have a good day!” She calls after the seemingly antique woman as she exits out the door into the bright summer sun, taking her mothball aroma with her.   
The warmth pouring through the front windows seems to taunt Dana. She glances at the clock. Only one hour and thirteen minutes until she can clock off.   
She makes a plan to go for a jog on her favorite trail after work. Now she just has to wait for 7:30 to roll around...

She trains her eyes to stay off the clock. For the rest of her shift she keeps herself busy, wanting to obtain the grandeur of a perfect employee.   
At long last, she sees her manager, Ruth, strolling over to switch with her.   
“Go ahead and clock off, Dana. I'll take it from here.” Ruth politely sighs with a smile. She's an older woman. If Dana had to guess her age she's place bets on somewhere between 55 and 60. Her shoulder-length hair is the color of salt and pepper. She keeps it swept away with a barrette.   
Dana doesn't mind Ruth. Even though she is strict about enforcing every little rule in the book, she's always very nice about it. In fact, the only thing that Dana can find distasteful of Ruth are her pungent tuna fish sandwiches that she brings in for lunch all too often. They seem to leave their fishy odor in the break room for days, or until she brings in a fresh one. 

Dana wastes no time evacuating the building. She speeds to her baby blue Ford Taurus that's parked around the corner and leaps in behind the wheel. She lives conveniently close to Poppie's. Only about six blocks away with one stop light in between. As she cruises through her neighborhood the streets are alive with kids on bikes and dogs on leashes.   
The sun has finally come home for summer in Vancouver, Washington.   
Not that the dreary fold of the Pacific Northwest wouldn't be caught riding their bikes in the rain. Without the rain coats and pesky umbrellas their laughter seems louder and their summer joy almost tangible.   
As Dana reverses into the driveway of her parent's charming suburban home she is relieved to find them both still at work. One less obstacle between her and that sunlit trail. She takes the stairs two at a time and changes into her sweats in record time.

The trail runs a short distance of about a mile and a half before nature starts to overgrow and reclaim the space.   
Dana loses herself in the rhythm of her footsteps meeting with the dirt. She used to bring her Walkman along with a CD or two. Now she leaves it at home. She's fond of Mother Nature's tones. The sound of her breath hurling from her lungs soothes her soul.   
She checks her wristwatch.  
9:17 p.m.  
Beneath the tree cover the trail is darkening by the minute, signaling that it's time to head home.   
She turns and starts to head back the way she came, when suddenly, a white light blasts forth through the trees to her right. It hits her with brazen force, robbing her ability to even squint. She is left standing there blind and defenseless. Then, she senses the darkness return from behind her eyelids.   
The light is gone, vanishing as quickly as it had come.   
She figures the event only lasted mere seconds. She stands immobile trying to regain her focus. She urgently blinks away the colorful blotches from her vision as if she had just stared into the sun.   
For a moment, the forest is quiet. Dana soon realizes she is standing in stone cold silence. No breeze, no rustling leaves, no squirrels scurrying up trees... only perfect tranquility. Feeling as if she were existing in some sort of vacuum she finds herself too perplexed to make any movement. Then, out of the void, nature's noise abruptly switches back on. The surge of sound breaks her trance. Immediately she senses an unnerving, eery feeling creep under her skin, as if she had just experienced something forbidden. She promptly pivoted all of her attention to fleeing the scene.   
Dana discovers herself in the backseat of her mind, no longer at the controls. Thoughts racing, anxiety mounting, she replays the occurrence about a thousand times over from every possible angle. Her mind refuses her any solace. She was so hung up on the soundless incident. Could it have been some sort of natural phenomenon? Maybe this was a completely rational event in nature that humans rarely got the chance to experience first hand... Desperate for peace of mind, Dana imagined herself giving an interview for National Geographic magazine about her once in a lifetime exposure to such a rare – completely normal – happening. 

At last, she emerges from the shadowed forest and into the streetlights. The night wastes no time chasing away the summer sun. She can see the moon peak out from behind the pine trees.  
The sound of a rattling car engine yanks her from her dazed confusion.   
Her vacant eyes snap into focus. Across the street there is a man at the wheel of a _______, his arm is hanging casually out the window.   
Dana squints, she knows him from somewhere...  
All at once, a stampede of memories flood her brain.  
Staring at the base of his neck during Chemistry.   
Borrowing his pencil sharpener in English.   
Correcting his homework in Trig.   
The words slip from her lips before she can stop them, “Spooky Mulder?”   
She hasn't muttered that nickname since high school.   
“Get in.” He says curtly.   
She watches as he leans over the passenger seat to unlock the door.   
Dana feels compelled to go over to him. Why shouldn't she? The night's recent events overwhelmed his simple gesture by far. With her curiosity brimming, she crosses the street and climbs into the vehicle. Before she can settle into the seat he swiftly leans over her to lock the door.   
“Are you alright?” He asks her with an intense stare.   
“Yeah, fine, I guess. What's going on here?” Dana stares back.   
“You saw the light, didn't you.” He states plainly.   
“Yes, what was it?” She presses, expecting him to have a completely clear and logical explanation for all of it.   
Without missing a beat he replies, “Well, believe it or not, you've just witnessed an alien craft touching down on Earth. Not too uncommon, either. I've been tracking their whereabouts with coordinates I've decoded from my satellite television.” His eyes bore into her, challenging her, unwavering as he waits for her reaction. Will she call him crazy like just like all the others?   
Probably.  
Whatever.   
He couldn't waste his time with the likes of her opinion anyway.   
Still, it might be nice to have someone trust his word just once.  
To have someone join him on his quest to expose the truth...  
No.   
He started this alone, he'd finish it alone.   
Dana blinks.   
“Aliens,” she muses, “Okay,” but her mind has already dismissed the entire concept.   
For a split second she wonders if he's joking, but soon remembers that it's Spooky Mulder she's talking to. Of course he's not joking.   
Dana stares with her gaze fixed on the dashboard, attempting to gather her scattered thoughts.   
“There has to be an explanation,” she says with finality, “maybe it was some sort of chemical reaction or maybe even a natural phenomenon or --”   
“Listen to yourself,” he interrupts firmly, “even you don't believe what you're saying.” He's been through this before with other eyewitness accounts he's met.   
Same old song and dance.  
Blatant denial.  
“Well I'm sure I don't know what it was!” Dana's tone spikes with irritation. “Until I do I sure as hell won't deny the logical reasoning behind it and pretend it's aliens!” Her brow is permanently furrowed with frustration.   
“No one's pretending.” He retorts dryly.   
He finds her short temper and stubborn logic almost amusing.   
“It's Scully, right?” He asks gently. Her aura fills the atmosphere, he can sense she's vexed and weary. He's done challenging her, at least for tonight.   
“Dana.” She utters. She feels the day catching up with her now, her body feels like it's suddenly ten times heavier. She can barely keep her head up.  
“You know, Scully, contrary to popular belief, my name isn't Spooky.” His mouth twists into a smirk.   
“Yeah, sorry Fox.” Dana emits without a touch of apology. She's too tired for sincerity.   
“Mulder.” He states flatly. “How 'bout I give you a lift home, huh?”   
“Sure.” She feels her energy depleting with every breath. She could probably sleep for a thousand years right about now. 

His car sputters to life. They drive in silence, save for Dana's lazy directions.   
“It's the blue house here on the left.” She points. Mulder puts the hunk of metal in park.   
“Are you gonna be okay, Scully?” His voice is tinged with genuine concern.   
“Yeah, fine. I just need some sleep.” She sighs, what's up with this guy and last names?   
She hops out and starts for the porch steps.  
“Thanks for the lift.” She tosses the words over her shoulder, not bothering to look back.   
“I'll be in touch.” He calls after her as he switches gears and scuttles off down the road.   
Why stay in touch? She thinks. She'd be perfectly okay if she never saw him again. 

Dana expertly makes her way through the house, sneaking over the loose floorboards near the front door.   
The house is quiet, her parents lay snoozing down the hall. She hikes up the stairs and finally falls into her bed like dead weight into a coffin. She pulls the blankets up to her chin, mustering every ounce of strength to turn her head toward the alarm clock.   
10:58 p.m.  
She gives no thought to the time.   
Time holds no meaning for her tonight.   
Her eyes snap shut and within seconds sleep washes over her like a tidal wave of amnesia.


End file.
